


Sleepover

by leviosaphoenix



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 21:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1794526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leviosaphoenix/pseuds/leviosaphoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma wakes up to find herself in a very awkward position. O/S, post 3x17.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessicat @captainduckling](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Jessicat+%40captainduckling).



> This little ficlet is just something I whipped up for my friend Jessica, who asked for a story in which a not-yet-canon Emma and Hook wake up to find they fell asleep together, and subsequently panic. It’s loosely set post-3x17, after Zelena has already cursed Hook. I also gained some inspiration from this fanart: https://38.media.tumblr.com/4c9667fd08552edc2be1fcae6e88f7bd/tumblr_n6lf15P5yg1r62j7eo1_500.jpg 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

She dreams of waves.

Rising and falling steadily as if the ocean were breathing beneath her, she stands on the deck of the Jolly Roger, the wind lifting her hair. Taking a deep breath, she inhales the scent of the salty air and… leather?

Her eyes flicker open, and the assault on the inside of her skull is swift and brutal. Swallowing several times in an attempt to rid herself of her dry mouth, she realizes the rising and falling she is feeling is actually stemming from her position on somebody’s chest.

 _Oh_ , she thinks, closing her eyes again, _that explains the divine smell_.

A couple of seconds later, the scratchy sensation of chest hair against her cheek causes her eyes to reopen, and her heart plummets down to her stomach and back up to her throat. She is asleep _on_ somebody, somebody she most definitely should _not_ be sleeping on.

Slowly pulling her head back so she can see his face, she notes that he’s still fast asleep, but any sudden movements on her part will undoubtedly wake him. They’re on the couch in her living room, his arm hanging down so his fingers brush the floor and the other, sans hook, rests on her back. The metal object in question is sitting on the coffee table, neatly alongside a half-finished cup of tea as if it had been deliberately, consciously placed there.

Judging from the pounding in her skull, her lack of memory as to how they’d ended up like this could most likely be attributed to an alcohol binge the night before. With the way Killian has been acting lately, she isn’t sure what emotion to expect when he wakes up, but she knows it would be better if the circumstances seem more platonic. _Preferably if I could walk out of my bedroom and convince him he spent the night on the couch alone_ , she thinks to herself. It seems likely that if she can’t remember falling asleep on him, he probably won’t either.

His face creases slightly, and she wonders if he’s dreaming. His arm on her back tightens briefly, and she panics, wondering if she should just tear off the Band-Aid and bolt before he can shake the haze of sleep, but it’s too late.

His eyes are open, and they’re fixed on her.

“Swan?”

She curses internally as he takes in their position, then she tries to scramble off him to put as much distance between them as possible. In doing so, she nearly falls face-first off the couch, emitting an ungraceful yelp as he reaches out to steady her.

Her mind races for a plausible explanation, but he seems shocked, his fingers lifting to touch his lips with a fearful expression on his face.

“Swan, what…”

“No! At least, I don’t think so…” With all items of clothing accounted for, save for the unbuttoned part of his shirt exposing that tantalizing glimpse of chest, it doesn’t seem like anything untoward had happened.

“Do you…?”

“Shh!” she hushes him, looking towards David and Mary Margaret’s door. “Do I what?”

“Feel any different?”

She frowns. “Hungover? Yes, definitely.” A nervous look crosses her face, and she shifts further away from him, wringing her hands in her lap. “Or do you mean… feel different about you?”

“No, I meant… never mind.” He grabs his hook, screwing it back on in the heavy silence that follows, before glancing at her again, hesitant. “But, uh, now that you mention it, _do_ you feel different about me?”

There are a few breathless seconds of eye contact, and then they both glance away as she anxiously straightens her clothing and he runs his hand over his head. Flashes of the previous night come back to him, and he remembers drinking and giggling and hushing and falling asleep on the couch, nothing more. He sighs, relieved his carelessness and lack of willpower hadn’t caused her to lose her powers.

“You should probably…”

“Aye,” he agrees, almost too emphatically, jumping to his feet.

“We were just…”

“Drunk. It was…”

“A complete accident,” she finishes. “We’ll never speak of this again, agreed?”

He nods, and she ushers him out of the apartment before any member of her family has a chance to see him do the walk of shame.

The next time she falls asleep on his chest a few weeks later, they’re in her bed, in her new apartment, and she’s wearing his shirt.

She dreams of waves as she sails on the Roger with her captain, and in the morning, she wakes him with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels good to finally get back into the groove of writing; I finished my first semester of university today and now I remember the concept of free time again! Hope you all had a wonderful weekend.


End file.
